Les Paul

I first discovered the music of Les Paul in, of all places, an episode of Happy Days. (It was one of those early episodes, without a laugh track — they're really quite good, nothing like what the series would become. As a general rule, if The Fonz isn't seen so much and isn't wearing a leather jacket, you're probably safe.) A brief bit of "How High The Moon" was played over the opening scenes. I've no idea how I got from that to actually buying a Les Paul cassette (how did I even know who the artist was? This was the mid-1980s, long before that kind of information was rarely further than a few keystrokes away), but I got there, somehow.

It was many years later that I learned of the significance of his work, that he had pioneered the multi-track recording techniques that made his records sound unlike anything else in the 1950s. It was only recently that I learned how he did this, without the benefit of separate recording tracks and mixing boards, by backing up the tape and recording each separate pass of vocals and guitars over the previous ones, each in a single take. (That was all the chance there was.) That certainly explains the precision in those recordings, which is an aspect I've always enjoyed. (I think it appeals to my sense of order.)

If you've ever heard his records, you know he had a sort of excited (for lack of a better word) style of guitar playing, but incredibly precise, and all his own. And the vocals, provided by Mary Ford (to whom he was married at the height of his fame), have a richness and depth, a quality accentuated by her singing harmony with herself.

It's great stuff. I always admire someone who finds a way to create something so distinctive, so different.